


It’s Such a Wonderful Life

by Soaring_Kite



Series: Welcome to Life (you won’t leave it alive) [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Gen, Hibari just wants a fucking nap, Mentions of wars and lots of shitty stuff, Near Death Experiences, Reborn Is So Done, Someone save Tsuna, and yet here we are, i told myself I wasn’t going to start a new story until I’d finished the first one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27718949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soaring_Kite/pseuds/Soaring_Kite
Summary: Lupo Argent, aged thirty-four, died with his sword in hand and a smile on his lips.Lupo Bovino is thrust into life covered in blood and screaming bloody murder.Or:An OC is reborn as Lambo Bovino’s only (mostly) functioning role model, and proceeds to kick ass.
Relationships: Lambo Bovino & Original Male Character, Yamamoto Takeshi/Original Male Character
Series: Welcome to Life (you won’t leave it alive) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040841
Comments: 100
Kudos: 586
Collections: A Collection of Beloved Inserts, Reincarnation and Transmigration





	1. Death is Evil...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our MC is introduced.

Lupo hadn’t meant to die, as it is with everybody.

He’d been fighting, he thinks, with a larger-than-normal group of bandits. He’d already gotten his liege out of the area, thanks to the more competent knights, and managed to hold off the bandits by himself.

Just until backup arrives, he’d told himself. Just until backup arrives.

In the end, backup hadn’t arrived, and he’d died from blood loss, the corpses of his enemies scattered around the road. They most likely thought of him as dead already. Well, the king had never liked him much anyway, and his family had always been taught to embrace death. _It_ _was inevitable_ , his family said, _why fight something that is inevitable?_

Besides, Lupo too, had always thought it better to die, composed and elegant, embracing death sweetly, then to go kicking and screaming and swearing like a fool.

Lupo Argent, aged thirty-four, died with his sword in hand and a smile on his lips.

Lupo Bovino is thrust into life covered in blood and screaming bloody murder.

And as he stares up at the scornful face of his new mother, he gives a pitiful whine and spits in her face.

* * *

Lupo finds out, three weeks later, that his mother is a low-ranking member of the ‘Bovino Famiglia’ that nobody cares about. His father was unknown, and Lupo was the unwanted result of a one night stand. It was a stark and unpleasant difference from his previous life.

Four months later, his mother is killed in action, and Lupo finally realises there’s something _different_ about this world. He investigates to the best of his abilities.

He figures out, almost a year later, that though the land and languages are the same, the history and culture is completely different. A government has replaced the king, mafia and the underground have replaced the varying cults, technology has replaced _everything_ and things called Dying Will Flames had replaced the weirdness of said cults.

Lupo _did not_ like this. At all.

* * *

He is two (again) when he realises what the _mafia_ truly is.

A crime organisation. Split into things called Families. Much like the nobles in his past life, each family differed in power, motive and morals. Lupo takes some comfort in the fact that, though in another world, humans never seem to chance much.

It doesn’t give him as much relief as he thought it would.

* * *

Lupo is raised by nannies and maids. They don’t like him much, he knows this. Too quite, too unnatural, too smart and too different. His slate-gray eyes are already weary of the world, and his black hair too much of a contrast on pale skin for an Italian, they say. He doesn’t resemble the Bovino family, much, and he is thankful for this small mercy.

He is two and a half when the itch to pick up the slim handle of a rapier sets over him, and he is three when he is finally gifted a wooden one after his insistence. He sets to work immediately, training to get his too-soft body back into shape with a strange determination.

* * *

He is eight when he gains his Flames, and the Family finally take note of him: the small, long-haired bastard child with the dead mother.

A Cloud, they whisper. It explains his oddness. Propagation. Powerful.

They ignore the fact that the reason he became Active was because of another child. Jealousy was an ugly thing.

Lupo is still bloody and wet from his scuffle and dunk in the river. The other child is nowhere to be seen, and Lupo knows for a fact the child won’t be found alive.

His hold on the rapier tightens as he ignores the wary looks and awed tongues that wag. He ignored the hurtful, foolish comments and buries it deep beneath his potent purple Flames that wrap around and embrace his being. Not gently, but not harshly either.

He is eight and a half, after tens of hits and the rising reputation of the Bovino and still no official entrance into the Family, that he realises he is but a tool for them. He destroys half the training ground given to him in a fit of cold rage afterwards.

* * *

Lupo is eleven when he is tasked with babysitting duty. Why anyone thought he was babysitter material, he has absolutely no idea.

His charge is the Boss’s nephew, a bastard child from a honeypot trap gone wrong. Lambo Bovino.

For a second, Lupo considered the idea that he was tasked with the brat because he too, was an illegitimate child. Then he tossed the idea away after realising that, no, it wasn’t because of that. This was just some annoying ploy to tie him down to the Family.

They hope he will grow attached, so Lupo resolves not to grow fond of the gurgling baby in his arms.

(He finds that the annoying little baby grows on him anyway, despite his best attempts not to feel. It both upsets and pleases him).

* * *

Lambo is four when he finds the Bazooka. It’s pink, it’s ugly, and no one knows what it does. Lupo doesn’t care much for it either, indulging the boy as he boasts about his find, and then Lambo trips and there’s a burst of pink smoke and-

Lupo stares at the grumbling teenager in front of him.

He’s tall and lanky, with messy black hair and amused green eyes. Lupo doesn’t recognise him, but the other obviously recognises Lupo, because he smiles and waves a hand lazily.

“Hey, Lupo-nii.”

...what?

* * *

Lupo is fifteen when he finds out about the Ten-Year Bazooka, and he stiffly pulls his blade away from the shrieking Lambo’s neck.

“...you... You’re Lambo? From ten years into the future?” he asked cautiously.

“I’m hurt, Lupo-nii, you don’t even recognise me?” the teen whines and Lupo is hit with the strongest urge to hit the boy over the head.

As if sensing his intent, Lambo hurriedly puts his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry! Sorry! I won’t say anything stupid. But, Lupo-nii-” he places two hands on both of Lupo’s shoulders and Lupo stares at him in bewilderment “-please, for yourself, don’t go running around shirtless-!”

There’s a puff pink smoke, and teenage Lambo was replaced back with normal Lambo, who holds a lollipop and is _beaming_.

Lupo regrets everything. He really, truly does.


	2. ...But Not as Evil as Life...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot. Kind of. I don’t even know what I’m doing with this story. I just a vague idea of the idea and shit.

Lupo is sixteen and Lambo five, when Lambo disappears and Lupo is Not Pleased.

“Oi!” he roars, kicking open the door and ignoring the fact that the Boss screamed and scrambled to pull his covers over his body, while the Boss’s wife just shrugged and continued making herself a cup of coffee. The both of them were very naked (Lupo ignored that too).

“The door! Close the door! Lupo, you- you cannot just barge into my personal quarters and-”

“Shut up,” Lupo said coldly, lowering his leg. “Where the fuck is Lambo?”

Now, see, Lupo normally didn’t swear much, if he did it at all. So, when he did swear, people generally listened. Including the Boss.

“Lupo, look, he wanted to do it. I didn’t want to do it but-”

“Do not take me as a fool,” Lupo snapped. “And I did not ask for a sob story. Tell me. Where he is. Now.”

“Namimori, Japan. He’s in a place called Namimori in Japan,” the wife offered and Lupo gave her a nod of acknowledgment.

“I apologise for disturbing you. I shall be on my way.”

Then he turned around and strode out the room, without bothering to close to door behind him. He ignored the screeches that followed.

* * *

It’s only after Lupo has stolen a passport, pulled some strings to get his rapier on board, and is in the air on a plane heading to Japan, that he realised what he’s done.

He groans and buries his head into his hands in horror.

He’s penniless, he can speak the most basic Japanese, and from what he’s seen on the map, Namimori isn’t a small place. Lupo cannot _believe_ he’d been so stupid for a five year old brat that could probably survive for a little longer as he sorted things out.

Then Lupo remembered the time Lambo had managed to get stuck in a pipe after Lupo had looked away for a minute and decides that, no. It was best he’d left when he did.

Lupo hoped the brat wasn’t dead.

* * *

When Lupo arrived in Namimori’s airport, the first thing he saw were the teenagers. Specifically, the pompadoured, uniform-wearing, Japanese teenagers that were stationed around the airport like security guards.

One of them must have caught his staring, because he headed over with sharp, brisk steps.

“ _Ano, sumimasen. Arimasu ka_ -”

“ _Go-men,_ ” Lupo said in broken Japanese, internally wincing, “ _Dekimasen... nihonjin._ ”

The teen nodded in understanding after a minute of confusion, and embarrassment on Lupo’s part.

“English?”

While Lupo wasn’t the _best_ at English, he _could_ hold a conversation in it, unlike Japanese, so... he nodded.

“Sir,” the teen said (even though Lupo didn’t look a day over sixteen, “do you have license for sword?”

“Yes. Let me just, um,” Lupo made a ‘wait’ motion and began fishing around for his wallet. “Ah, here.”

Despite popular belief, the license was a hundred percent genuine. Lupo’s pride as a swordsman had disallowed anything less. So, when the kid checked it over and found nothing wrong with it, he bowed slightly and began to head away.

“Ah, wait, please!” Lupo called out. “Have you seen child? Five years old, large, um, afro, and green eyes. Responds to Lambo.”

The teen shook his head.

“Sorry, I’m afraid no. Do you want me to help look?” he asked.

Lupo shook his head. He said, “No, it’s fine. I’ll find him eventually. Thank you.”

* * *

Namimori, Lupo decided after wandering around for a while, was insane. That, or he was insane. Possibly both. After all, what kind of sane person goes traipsing around looking for a child with a sword hanging by his waist and looking extremely suspicious?

It didn’t help that he knew next to nothing about the language.

Lupo sighed in frustration, plopping himself down onto a bench and glaring off into the distance as the sun began to fade. What to do... what to do? It looked like he’d have to spend the night outside. It wasn’t a rare occurrence, really. In the past, he’d often had to camp outside, and now missions often took a while, and no one in the Bovino Family apart from Lambo were overly fond of him.

Sometimes... he really just wanted to die again.

What was the point in being reborn, after all, if life just kept throwing crap at him over and over again without pause?

* * *

“...dammit.”

He was stiff, sore and annoyed. Lambo was still nowhere to be found and he was being attacked by a high schooler. (He refused to admit the fact that he too, was high school age). Said teenager wielded a pair of tonfa with the ferocity of a damn tornado, and just _would not let up_. Fucking hell.

* * *

It started like this.

Lupo woke up to the glint of silver and concentrated bloodlust, and immediately dodges to the left, relying entirely on his instincts. It’s lucky he did, because not a second later, a metal stick (?) slams into the bench and fucking shatters it in half.

He stares, wide-eyed, at the boy who’d done the damage and fuck. _Fuck_. He was hot. That was not good.

The boy in question is all slim muscle and lithe grace and Lupo is very much a disaster with anything and anyone _remotely_ pretty and elegant (sue him, he has a thing for elegant things like cats and ballet, and if they were pretty, that was just an added bonus), so this is Not Good. At all.

Then his thoughts are abruptly derailed as the boy swipes again and Lupo finally realised that no, it was not the time to be admiring the subtle elegance and sheer _prettiness_ of the other boy, as he was relatively certain said other boy wanted to kill him.

“...did I do something to offend you?” Lupo asks, leaping away gracefully again.

“You were in my nap spot. I will bite you to death,” is the answer given to him, and Lupo barely has time to realise it was spoken in Italian, before the Japanese teen is moving forward.

Territorial, much? A Cloud, too, then? Lupo swears under his breath and stops the next blow with his rapier when he finds he’s been backed into a corner, and inwardly grimaces as the tremors run up and down his arms.

Fine, then.

He unsheathes the sword and the boy let’s go of bloodthirsty smile and Lupo wonders what he did to deserve all this fuckery. They both charge.

There’s a screech of steel against steel and it takes Lupo a considerable amount of strength to hold the boy back, much to his surprise. Is his teenage body really that weak? Has he been lacking in his training?

And then the Japanese broke a fucking wall with nothing but his steel tonfa, and Lupo amends himself. No, he was not lacking in his training. No, he was not weak. It was just that the guy was a freaking monster even amongst other Clouds.

Lupo frowned, tossing aside his sheath when it got in his way and prepared himself. Perhaps it would be best not to hold back. He had a feeling it would do more harm than good.

* * *

The fight ended with the nameless boy’s victory.

Lupo wheezed in another breath, laying prone on the ground as the other stumbled, and gave him an appraising look.

“...omnivore.”

“Don’t know what that means,” Lupo grunted. “Now, if you’ll excuse me-”

The boy plopped himself down on the ground next to him and fished out a phone from his pocket. Lupo was amazed it hadn’t been trashed during the fight. The phone only rang twice before someone picked up, and the boy went off in rapid Japanese that Lupo was too tired to try and decipher. They’d been fighting for the better part of the day, he deserved the rest, okay?

Then tonfa boy looked at him and said, “You’ll be coming with me.”

Just as he said this, a black van pulled up and a teen with a pompadour and uniform (hadn’t someone at the airport been wearing the exact same thing?) opened the door of the car.

...was Lupo being kidnapped? Was this kidnapping?

His brain promptly decided at that moment that, nope, too much crazy in one day, and shut down.

Fucking hell. (He was starting to swear a lot more than usual).


	3. ...Because fate is crazy...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lupo finally finds Lambo.

The boy’s name was Hibari Kyouya, Lupo had found out later, as he woke up to the sight of his ribs being bandaged and head wrapped in several layers of bandages by a pompadoured teenager.

Lupo stared at the teen groggily, uncomprehending of his situation, before his brain caught up and he flushed red in embarrassment. He’d _passed out_ , after actually _losing_ a fight to some damn, uniformed teenager that had _no right_ to be as strong as he was.

Then he realised said boy was right next to him, eyeing Lupo with a curiosity that Lupo definitely decided was bad for his health- both mental and physical.

He groaned loudly, jolting a little as the van they were swayed a little as it slowed to a stop, and then slumped his head back.

“...is there a reason I’m being kidnapped by what appears to be a bunch of rich delinquents?” he muttered.

“The small, annoying herbivore belongs to you, does it not, Lupo Bovino,” was the cool answer, which, what?

Small, annoying herbivore? What? What was with this guy’s speech patterns? And couldn’t this guy ask questions like a _normal_ _person_?

At his confusion, Hibari gave an annoyed, little huff and tapped his tonfa against his thigh, which Lupo zeroed in on warily. Speaking of weapons... where the hell was his rapier?!

He bolted up, startling the teen that’d just moved back and yelping like a wounded dog when his ribs _burned_. However, Lupo had had worse before, and merely ignored the blooming bursts of pain in favour looking around frantically for his sword. It wasn’t in the car.

“Trunk,” Hibari said coldly. “Kusakabe did not wish for a weapon to be in the vicinity of you despite myself being able to handle you perfectly well.”

At this, Lupo _bristled_. Like hell, what the hell was ‘perfectly well’?! Last time he’d checked, he’d sent the brat on a relatively good fight!

As he opened his mouth to say this, the door slid open abruptly and Lupo realised that they’d... stopped at a school. Huh?

Hibari pointed with his chin and Lupo, unwittingly, followed the line of attention to see...

“LAMBO BOVINO YOU FUCKING BRAT! SEE IF I DON’T SKIN AND SHAVE YOU BALD WHEN I CATCH AHOLD OF YOU!” Lupo roared with all the fury of a mother wolf and scrambled up from his position on the seat.

* * *

Tsuna had actually been having a relatively good day. It was resembling something... normal!

He hadn’t, for once in what seemed like years, been awoken by Reborn’s... explosions. Or guns. Or dynamite. Or hammer. Basically, he’d been awoken by his fucking _alarm_ that he’d set on his actual _non-explosive_ clock without Reborn in sight. At first he’d been suspicious, sure, but then it’d been found out that Reborn had actually had to solve a few ‘problems’ that’s raised and left the country for a bit.

At this information (provided graciously by his dear mother) he’d rejoiced. He’d gone to school, because Reborn was a demon, and _nothing had happened_. Sure, Takeshi and Gokudera had fought a little, but it’d been very mild compared to their other fights and arguments! So, Tsuna would be taking that as a win any day!

Should Tsuna really be taking this at face value? No, not really. For all he knew, this was a test set up by Reborn and the damn baby wasn’t actually fixing problems and was still in the country.

Would this, however, be taking down Tsuna’s positive feelings at the moment? Haha, of course not!

He hummed a little to himself as he traded down the path with Gokudera and Takeshi. He was still getting used to the whole thing, still. Mafia. Fucking hell. Why him?

Tsuna abruptly cut the thought. NO. Nope, no way. He was _not_ going to be thinking about that kind of... _stuff_ on this rare off day!

And then Lambo happened.

It turned out that Reborn hadn’t told anyone except his mother where he was off to, and Lambo too, had been left in the dark. The kid had been getting strangely more and more desperate in his attempts at ‘assassination.’ Something about a deadline and death...?

Well, really, it wasn’t like that was Tsuna’s problem... right?

* * *

“Lambo, calm down, Reborn’s just left the country for a bit, he’ll be back soon!” Tsuna said desperately. “Ah, someone help me calm him down!”

“Don’t worry, Jyuudaime!” Gokudera said a _bit too_ enthusiastically as he pulled out dynamite from god knows where. “I’ll get rid of the damn cow for you!”

“No! Don’t _kill_ him! He’s just a kid!”

“Kill Reborn!” Lambo continued to wail loudly, attracting annoyed or aghast stares from students that were passing by as they headed for the quiet of their homes. Tsuna wished he could do the same. “Kill Reborn! Get him here for Lambo-san _now_!”

Dear god, why him of all people?

Soon, the only people left at the school as the day neared to a close were Lambo, Gokudera who was _not_ _helping_ with his dynamite sticks, Takeshi who was _not helping, at all_ as he continued to laugh cheerfully, and then Tsuna himself.

The lot of them were so wrapped up in their own little world that they didn’t notice the sleek, expensive looking black van pulled up a few metres behind them and a Disciplinary Committee member stepped out to open the sliding door.

Then all hell broke loose.

“LAMBO BOVINO YOU FUCKING BRAT!” someone roared. “SEE IF I DON’T SKIN AND SHAVE YOU BALD WHEN I CATCH AHOLD OF YOU!”

* * *

Honestly, no one in their group apart from Gokudera understood the Italian words, but the silver haired delinquent had been kind enough (devoted enough) to translate for Tsuna later, who’d caught the gist of it with his meagre Italian, but hadn’t understood completely. (Say what you will, Reborn was a sadistic as fuck baby, but one couldn’t deny his ~~torture~~ tutoring methods were effective).

Lambo froze immediately, eyes widening as he’d peered around Tsuna. Tsuna too, had cranes his neck to see a handsome, pale skinned and silver eyed teen stumble out of a van, followed by Hibari _fucking_ Kyouya.

“Lupo!” Lambo squealed.

Who? Tsuna wondered briefly, but then Lambo tugged his way out of Tsuna’s grip and launched himself at the stranger.

“I missed you!”

“Damn brat!”

 _Thwunk_!

Tsuna grimaced as ‘Lupo’ sidestepped, and Lambo crashed into the van instead. Almost instantly, Lupo grasped the five year old by his collar and hefted him up, glaring viciously.

“Are you stupid!?” was the inquiry spat from twisted lips. “Do you know how worried I was?! Do you know what it’s like, to go on a mission and find the brat you’ve been taking care of for five years to be gone?! AND IT TURNS OUT THEY’VE BEEN GONE FOR MORE THAN A FEW DAYS?! LAMBO BOVINO, WHAT IN THE RIGHT MIND WHERE YOU THINKING?! GOING AFTER THE WORLD’S GREATEST HITMAN WITHOUT EVEN THE SLIGHTEST CLUE ON WHAT YOU’RE DOING?!”

Lambo flinched, eyes downcast as his lips quivered. “But... I did it for you,” he whispered.

“For me?! What do you mean for me!? Lambo, to kill someone in real life is not the same as those deaths in- in _games_! Once someone dies, they don’t come back. More than that, if the damn Greatest Hitman didn’t have a strict no child killing policy, _you’d_ be the one dead! And if by some offshoot miracle you did manage to get him-”

“Better him or me dead than you!” Lambo screamed. “I don’t want you to die!”

Lupo faltered. “...what?” he asked slowly. “Who said I was going to die?”

Lambo sniffled pathetically, still hanging from Lupo’s grip.

“Boss said so. Before you turn eighteen, they’re going to kill you off. I heard them when they thought I was sleeping. He said you were too much of a... a... troublemaker. Dangerous. Unpre- unpredict.... something.”

“...Lambo-”

“I told him I heard him the next day.”

Lupo made a sound like a strangled cat. “WHY WOULD YOU-”

“So- so, Boss said if I can kill Reborn... you can- hic -you can be accepted into the Family formally and- hic -live...”

Lupo stared in horror, barely acknowledging the twinges of pain shooting through his skull and chest.

This was... this... was...

“Well,” a dry voice said, “this is unexpected. Ciaossu, Bovino.”

Fucking. Hell.


	4. ...And Death is Kind...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lupo gets a break (not really).

“Ah, it’s Reborn! Lambo-san will kill you for sure this time- urk!”

Lupo grasped the foolish child’s collar firmly as he leapt towards the _World’s Greatest Hitman_.

“Foolish!” he hissed, grappling Lambo and stuffing him into a child safety leash he’d prepared earlier. “What do you think you’re doing! Didn’t I just scold you for that?!”

Reborn hummed, ignoring the attempted assassination. He eyed Lupo with a considering eye, and Lupo repressed the shiver that threatened to climb up his spine. The... child-yet-not-a-child reminded Lupo a bit too much of the bastard prince in his former life.

“The wolf amongst the cows. What a coincidence, seeing you here. Although, from what he said-” here, Reborn jutted his chin towards Lambo “-the explanation as to why several Bovino assassins can be found in Namimori.”

Lupo clicked his tongue in annoyance, reeling the line back in when Lambo strayed further away.

“My apologies if they bothered you. I’ll go take care of them,” he said stiffly.

“No need, they’ve all been taken care of. No cow will be hindering my work.”

Lupo stared warily. “...alright then. If that is all, I shall be taking Lambo and leaving-”

“Ma!” a boy said, and then fired off a string of rapid Japanese that left Lupo dizzy with confusion.

Hibari growled at whatever was said, and then lunged at the trio that Lupo had glimpsed earlier. Reborn ignored all this entirely and tapped the chameleon (now a gun) held in his hand.

“Where are you staying?” he questioned finally. “The Bovino want you dead, the brat most likely isn’t welcome back either, if the Head really sent him on a suicide mission.”

“I am... working that out. I can improvise, if worst comes to worst.”

“You’ll be staying with us.”

“...pardon?”

* * *

“Dame-Tsuna.”

It only took that one word for Tsuna to freeze where he was (getting smacked around by Hibari) and be sent flying by a wicked hit from the silver tonfa. He _screeched_ as he literally flew across the few meters and landed awkwardly at the pretty stranger’s feet.

Lupo, if Tsuna was remembering correctly (and, hey! Look, his Italian was getting better, cheers!) looked at him in bewilderment and a faint flicker of discontent flashed across his face. Tsuna flushed in embarrassment. God... how embarrassing!

“A mafia boss doesn’t land awkwardly, Dame-Tsuna. Will I have to further your training?”

Fuck the fucking baby. Tsuna yelped and got up quickly, brushing himself off and shaking his head wildly.

“No! No! It’s fine, I’m fine! You don’t need to bother with me and- wait. I’M NOT GOING TO BE A MAFIA BOSS!”

Lupo stared at him disapprovingly, and Tsuna flushed, shutting his mouth quickly.

“Hm, of course you are. I, as your tutor, will be assigning Lupo-kun here, to be your teacher in the things I cannot physically teach you. Don’t worry, he’s the best at what he does.”

“Which is to kill people, I’m sure,” Tsuna muttered bitterly.

“No, that’s me. Lupo-kun will be teaching you dance and etiquette, seeing as of the current moment, my form is unsuitable for dance and etiquette is useless when you’re me.”

“So, basically, you’re too short and chubby to dance, and you’re not bothered to teach me etiquette yourself.”

A tense silence overcame the area they were in, broken only by the groans of pain from Yamamoto and Gokudera. Hibari had, once again, vanished after beating up the two.

_CL-ick._

“You have five seconds to run, Dame-Tsuna.”

“HIEEEEEEEEE! CRAZY SPARTAN BABY!”

He should’ve kept his stupid mouth shut.

_BANG!_

* * *

Lupo had heard the rumours, of course. The three heirs to the Vongola head were all dead, and they needed a new heir. They’d found one. In Japan. A _civilian_.

The rumours had talked about how the World’s Greatest Hitman himself had been hired to get the new heir into shape. They talked about how the new heir, one Tsunayoshi Sawada, was the spitting image of the first Vongola head. It also said much about the boy’s unwillingness to take up the mantle.

The heir was a former civilian. A coward. Loud and screechy without any battle prowess. How he’d already snagged himself a Rain and Storm, his left and right hands respectively. How he was biding his time for the correct moment to strike. He was big and tall, and could crush boulders with his bare hands. The rumours went from nothing to everything.

Lupo just... hadn’t expected most of the rumours to be... so _true_.

He watched uncomfortably as Reborn shot bullet after bullet (not actually trying to hit the young Vongola, or Tsunayoshi Sawada- Sawada Tsunayoshi, whichever -would be dead six times over already.

“Oi. You’re the wolf guy, aren’t you?” the silver haired boy demanded immediately upon getting up, and Lupo felt a surge of relief upon hearing the familiar Italian words. “Good, take the damn cow and get the fuck outta here! Jyuudaime doesn’t need a whiny little kid around him!”

Lupo knew who this was. Hayato Gokudera. Smoking Bomb Hayato. Not weak, but not strong either. He couldn’t match up to someone like Lupo. However, Lupo _was_ currently the one intruding on their home turf.

“My apologies,” he said smoothly. “Lambo and I shall be on our way-”

“No, you won’t be. Gokudera, learn to get along with him. He’ll be teaching Dame-Tsuna how to dance and other things I deem him good enough in,” a voice interjected.

“That’s ridiculous!” the Smoking Bomb protested loudly. “I can teach Jyuudaime perfectly well! I can dance! And etiquette is something I had to learn too!”

“And I do not remember agreeing to this, sir,” Lupo added.

“So you won’t do it?”

...fuck. Lupo had no choice, did he?

“...it would be my honour to teach the young Vongola, of course,” he said grudgingly. Ah, he hoped the kid would be a better student than the bastard prince.

* * *

“ _Kaa-san, tadaima_!”

“Ah, _okaerinasai_ , Tsuna!”

Lupo was fairly sure that meant something along the lines of welcome home and I’m home. Three hours of Japanese lessons didn’t really help much... Lambo, however, seemed to understand everything perfectly.

“ _Mama_! _Tadaima_!” the child cheered happily. Mama...?

“ _Lambo-kun, okaerinasai! Ah, kore wa daredesu ka? Tomodachi_?”

Nana Sawada was a pretty woman, with soft brown hair and warm eyes. She immediately latched onto his problem of his lack of Japanese and beamed, before chattering on in Italian. It was... jarring, to say the least, and obviously surprising to her son as well.

“ _Anata wa Itaria-go o hanasu_ -”

“ _Hai, anata no tou-san wa itariahitodesu_! Ah, Lupo-kun, are you staying over too?” Nana asked cheerfully. “We don’t have much room to spare in Tsuna’s room, so I’m afraid you’ll have to take the couch if you are.”

“I- um, that’s fine, ma’am. It’s kind of you to even give Lambo and myself a place to stay in the first place.”

“Ah, just call me mama as well! Ma’am makes me feel so old! Is Lambo-kun your little brother or...?”

“I couldn’t, ma’am. And, no; we’re cousins. Very distant cousin, but I raised him, you see,” Lupo corrected.

“How nice!”

“Mama! Food!”

“Lambo, you don’t go into someone’s house and demand something like that!”

“Oh, no, it’s fine! Kids can be so extreme these days, really. Why, I remember when Tsuna was younger! Always crying and tripping over air... oh, I have to go make dinner, it’ll be ready in about half an hour,” Nana said.

“Is there anything I can do to help...?” Lupo asked uncertainly as he unhooked Lambo from the leash. “It’s the least I can do, for letting me stay,” he insisted when Nana opened her mouth to protest.

“Oh, I guess then...”

And if Lupo accidentally called the kind woman ‘Mama’ once in the kitchen... well, no one apart from her and he knew, and Nana Sawada had only gave him a knowing grin, so, no one had to know.

_Boom!_

“Ah, they’re at it with the explosives again,” Nana sighed. “I do wish Reborn would tone it down a little. Tsuna can’t be boss if he’s dead, after all.” She caught his stunned gaze and winked. “You’re not the only one with secrets, Lupo-kun.”

Ok. That. That was extremely concerning.


	5. ...And Should We Smile...

It’s been a couple of weeks since the meeting, and only one week since Lupo had started giving Vongola Heir lessons. The former few weeks had been spent of catching up on his Japanese, and figuring out the cultural system of Japan, as well as discouraging Nana from sending him to school of all places.

A third child had appeared as well; this time, it was someone Lupo knew. Not personally, but by reputation. Ranking Prince Futa. It had been... a shock, though for some reason, everyone else just kind of accepted it and moved on to the next big explosion.

Apart from that, Japan, Lupo had learnt, was fun. A nice place. Though, that could’ve just been Namimori itself. The bullying, however, was... a bit on the extreme side, and education was a big aspect of life.

Of course, though...

He glanced at Tsunayoshi Sawada, the soon-to-be Tenth Boss of the Vongola. Lupo didn’t mean to be rude or condescending, other students did that plenty already, but the boy was... well, he was clumsy and awkward and had two left hands and two hooves instead of feet. It was, quite frankly, amazingly, fascinatingly horrifying how clumsy a person could be.

In Lupo’s former life, grace had been everything to him. It had to be, for there had been nothing else he could attach himself to. Grace, elegance and power had been all that mattered. Had been all that’d kept him afloat in the storming, raging ocean of war and strife and agony.

Now, though, those three things mattered to a lesser extent than before. He still appreciated it and applied it, but it wasn’t as life-consuming as before. It was just...

“Okay, let’s take a break here,” he said, wincing as his toes throbbed.

“Sorry,” Tsuna whispered in mortification.

It was just that it still pained him greatly to see and experience a matter such as _this_. Both literally and metaphorically.

“It’s fine,” Lupo sighed. “You’re still learning. I stepped on a few toes during my time of learning too.”

“Really?” Tsuna asked dubiously.

“No,” Lupo admitted awkwardly. “I picked it up rather quickly.”

God above... how was he supposed to comfort people? Even with Lambo, Lupo shrieked to the heavens and coddled (or cuddled) him until Lambo felt better or had had enough. However, he didn’t think patting Tsuna’s back until he felt better, or yelling at him until he felt better, were very good options. For one, they weren’t close enough, and two, the poor boy got yelled at enough already.

“Lupo-san...”

“Hm?”

“Um, how old are you?” Tsuna asked.

Lupo looked at the fidgeting boy. Was it inappropriate to ask people for their ages? Or was Tsuna nervous because Lupo both acted and seemed older than he looked? Blame that on his past life- he was a fourth something year old mentally. He shrugged after a while (still somehow gracefully, though. It irked Tsuna how the other boy could be so effortlessly cool).

“Seventeen,” he said.

“HIEEEE?!” And that there was the other problem. That god awful screeching Tsuna made every single time something surprising or unexpected happened. Even the _slightest_ shock made him screech like a pterodactyl. “But- since when?! Lambo told us you were sixteen!”

Okay. For one: if you’d asked Lambo before, why the hell we’re you asking him now? And two: Lambo knew his age? Surprising, since the little cow child didn’t even know most people’s names. (Or didn’t bother to learn. Whichever).

“My birthday was a week ago,” Lupo said. “Lambo probably didn’t realise. We’ve never celebrated my birthday, just his. So, it’s probably safe to say he doesn’t even know my birthday. Hell, he might even think I don’t have a birthday, just that I popped into existence to take care of him. Besides, no one even expected me to know when my birthday was. I was, after all, just a tool for them to rise in the ranks. And look at me now, just a discarded tool that was picked up by another. Pitiful, don’t you think?”

“But-”

Lupo got up from his seat, patting away the imaginary dust on his sleeves. “I think that’s enough of a break now. We’ll continue on your lesson for another half an hour, and then you can call over that baseball loving friend of yours and tell him it’s his turn to suffer.”

“Lupo-san-”

“Just drop it, Vongola,” Lupo said sharply. “It’s not important.”

* * *

Reborn peered over Futa’s shoulder as the little boy mumbled under his breath, ranking someone quickly. Someone, being Lupo Bovino. Or rather, Lupo Argent, as the wolf had taken to insisting.

“May I know his rankings too?” Reborn asked.

Futa yelped, shooting up and staring with wide eyes at the World’s Greatest Hitman, before nodding slowly. “Um- yes. Okay. Look-!”

Futa began to talk rapidly, excitedly.

“Lupo Bovino, now known as Lupo Argent, ranks first in elegance in the mafia, that’s to be expected, of course!” Yes, to be expected. Reborn had expected that much. “He ranks thirty-first in the best assassin/hitman, and number two in best swordsman, second to only Squalo Superbi!” Interesting. “And he’s twelfth in mafioso who just wants a normal life!” How sad.

“Hmm, thank you, Futa. That’ll be all.”

* * *

Takeshi Yamamoto- no, Yamamoto Takeshi because Japanese put surnames before given names, remember that, brain! -was taller than Lupo. This was a very annoying fact.

To be exact, the swordsman was a full seven centimetres taller than Lupo himself, who’d remained stuck at 170cm for the past few months. Although, it did soothe his ego a bit, to find that everybody else was shorter than him. (Only, he then remembered that, fuck, hadn’t the internet said that most boys stopped growing at sixteen?! If Lupo didn’t gain any height soon, and fast, he was going to be fucking shorter than everybody else!).

Another blow, however, soon came to Lupo’s ego. Yamamoto, having gotten the ‘following’ part of the dance down pat (fucking hell, swordsman had to be elegant so as not to stab their own feet, right? And apparently, the kid was a ‘sports genius’ and dance was a kind of sports...) now could learn to lead. Fuck. Cute, elegant swordsman is leading in dance.

Lupo was going to die.

“Is everything all right, Lupo-san?” Yamamoto asked. “Your expression just went really twisted for a second there! Haha!”

It was fine. It was fine. It didn’t matter that the boy was a (very good, from what he’d seen) swordsman. It didn’t matter Yamamoto was years younger than him and _still_ fucking taller. Lupo was a teacher first at this moment, and he _would_ fucking teach.

“I’m fine,” Lupo said, face blank as he stepped back. “I think it’s fine for you to learn how to lead now.”

Yamamoto’s face brightened. “So I can be the man now?”

_Thwack!_

“Ouch!”

Lupo raised an eyebrow. “There is no ‘man’ or ‘woman’ part in dance, not really. People just generally assume the man will be leading, and so labeled the leading part as the ‘man’s job’, and the following as the ‘woman’s job.’ In my presence, you will be referring to the different roles as leading and following, not _man_ and _woman_ parts. Understood?”

Yamamoto nodded meekly, grinning sheepishly. Lupo sighed.

“Which do you want to learn first? Waltz, cha-cha or foxtrot? You’ve already got all of the following parts down in all three.” Haha, like hell he was teaching them swing and rumba.

“Well... which do you recommend?” Yamamoto asked.

“Any. Any is fine. Just choose.” His words sounded a bit strangled, even to Lupo’s own ears.

_Don’t choose foxtrot. Don’t choose foxtrot. Don’t choose foxtrot. Don’t choose foxtrot. Don’t choose foxtrot. Don’t choose foxtrot. Please, please, don’t choose foxtrot._

“Then, waltz!”

 _Oh, thank fuck, he didn’t choose_ _foxtrot_.

Lupo nodded, a little stiffly.

“You know where to put your hands, yes?”

“Yep!”

“Okay-” get rid of all feeling. Pretend this is like back with your mother in your past life and you’re learning dance all over again. It’s fine. This is just a lesson. Fucking hell, he doesn’t want to teach anymore. Ignore the cute, elegant boy in front of you and pretend. You can do this. Ignore. “Put your hand on- a little higher, okay.”

Lupo reached over and flicked on the music again.

“On three. One, two, three and- woah!”

* * *

There were too many nice, elegant, dangerous boys. Lupo was going to die.

It didn’t help that, unlike in his previous life, people didn’t really seem to care about which gender you dated. There were (mostly) no homophobic comments, and Lupo had almost had a heart attack (of joy) when he’d seen the two girls kiss each other several years ago. There were, of course, fucking bastards, but they were the minority, from what Lupo had seen so far.

So, yeah. Hibari was a dangerous little fucker, Yamamoto was a dangerous little fucker, and TYL!Tsuna was a dangerous little fucker along with many more.

“More tea, Lupo-san?” Tsuna asked, smiling.

“It’s fine.”

“Mm. It’s peaceful, for once, you know. Even in the future, everyone can be little shits. Except for you, you’re as nice as ever.”

“...nice. Right.”

“No, really. Even in the past, well, your present, you never yelled at me, and was patient even when I broke your toes that one time-” what “-and you’re really cool, Lupo-san,” Tsuna said warmly.

Lupo nodded stiffly, the dainty little China cup in his hands trembled, and he relaxed immediately. Tsuna, seeing this, did nothing but smile.

“I’ll see you again, Lupo-san.”

_Poof._

“Eh, Lupo-san, you’re back!”

...Lupo wanted to resign. Was that allowed?


	6. ...Or Should We Laugh...

Lupo was ready to commit murder. Not because he was mad, but because that was pretty much his only coping mechanism. Yeah, not very healthy, he knew, but it was the only way he knew. But! He wouldn’t be killing anyone, because Tsunayoshi was the heir of the Vongola and he rest were his Family, and Lupo _did_ _not_ want Vongola on his back for killing their heir or any of the heir’s chosen Family.

“It’s really fine,” he sighed. “My birthday passed already. It was during Valentines.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Nana said, and she seemed to be... _genuine_ about it. Weird.

“It’s fine, really, ma’am, Tsunayoshi. I’ve never celebrated it before, and I don’t plan to start now,” he insisted.

“But birthdays are meant to be special... with cake and presents and games, isn’t it?” Yamamoto pointed out.

“Is it? I don’t know.”

“That’s too sad, though!” Sasagawa (the female) said. “Oh! What about a late birthday party?”

“No, really, that’s okay-” Lupo protested.

“Ooh! I’ll do the cake!” Haru volunteered loudly.

“Yeah!” Kyoko agreed.

 _Bang_! Fucking hell, Reborn...

“CELEBRATE LUPO’S LATE BIRTHDAY WITH MY DYING WILL!” Guess who said _that_.

“Honestly, you lot...” he sighed in exasperation. “...thanks anyway, I guess.”

* * *

Their swords clashed with a screech and Lupo grit his teeth, before wrenching himself away from the man clad in black.

Squalo Superbia. The best swordsman in the world, and Lupo’s only worthy match. It’d been a while since they’d gone against each other. Perhaps... around six or so months? The long-haired man grinned like the shark he was named after.

“VOOOIIIIII! What the hell, Bovino? So the rumours were true after all?” he roared, and Lupi couldn’t help but stiffen.

“It’s Argent, now,” he said quietly, but firmly. “I have no need to carry the name of a Family that has abandoned me.”

“Ah?! So that was true too?! VOI, I’LL KILL THEM ALL!”

“No, actually, that’s fine. I’d planned to leave them in the first place anyway, after Lambo had grown up a bit more.”

It also happened that they were something close to... hm, _friends_. And Squalo had been trying to recruit Lupo into the Varia for quite some time now. Ever since they’d first met, actually. It was flattering, really.

* * *

They’d crossed swords for the first time when Lupo was eleven, bordering on twelve. He’d been sent out on a kill, and Squalo had happened to get the same target. If one thought back on it now, though, the person who’d hired them had most probably just wanted to let them take each other out or something. (They’d killed him instead. It was glorious).

Lupo and Squalo, the wolf and the shark, had stared at each other with the utmost hostility each could muster. Squalo had been fifteen or so back then, if Lupo was doing his maths properly, and Squalo’s birthday hadn’t passed that year (the exact details were hazy to him. He had, after all, suffered a severe concussion).

“VOI, you after my target or something?” Squalo snapped. “Like hell I’ll let you, damn brat!”

“I do not answer to you,” Lupo scoffed, turning.

He flinched away as a flash of silver glinted past him and slammed into the ground. Drawing his sword in a flash, he too, lunged forward.

Everything after that was a blur of movement and silver and little flashes of blood. At one point, he was slammed to the ground by a vicious kick, and cracked his head against the pavement, but got up and continued to fight.

He had only reached twelve back then, and he was a bit small for his age. He’d lost. Badly. But he hadn’t been killed.

“VOIII! I LIKE YOUR STYLE!” Squalo laughed, plopping himself down next to the panting form of Lupo. “You’re a Cloud, right?”

Lupo squinted at him, before nodding. “Ha! You’re pretty vicious, kid! Who taught you? Never seen those kind of moves with a fucking rapier of all blades!”

“No one taught me. I taught myself,” Lupo said.

“Ah?! That explains shit. Hey, tell you what kid, give yourself a year, and then come back. That, or join the Vongola! You from a Family?”

“Bovino,” Lupo grunted, pushing himself up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Signore Devantro hired me kill his nephew-”

“What.”

Squalo’s eyes narrowed. “Devantro hired me to kill his nephew, what are you yammering on about?”

Lupo blinked, steadying himself as his vision swam.

“I... no, Signore Devantro contacted the Bovino-” “that’s a shit Family” “-to hire me. I even have the contract in my pocket,” he protested weakly.

“...well. It looks like we have some tucking trash to take out. You coming, brat?”

“...what?”

And things escalated from there. Very, very quickly.

* * *

“Since you’re no longer a part of those Bovino guys, join the Varia. That was your excuse, wasn’t it? Something about family and loyalty,” Squalo demanded.

“That... I still have Lambo to look after, I’m afraid,” Lupo declined, and Squalo groaned loudly.

“Annoying! So damn fucking annoying, VOIII!”

“Lupo-san... do you know him?” Sawada asked nervously, looking between his indisposed friends, Lupo, and the assassin.

“I do,” Lupo agreed. “And he’ll be leaving now, don’t worry. He’s got what he came for anyway.”

The two killers stared at each other, willing the other to back down, before Squalo sneered and retreated.

“VOOOIII! THE BOSS IS HERE NOW, I’LL GET YOU TO JOIN THE VARIA, JUST YOU WAIT AND SEE!”

Lupo sighed, and sheathed his sword as the flash of silver hair disappeared around the corner.

“We’d best get your friends to the hospital.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some people couldn’t decide who to vote for, so I just picked one name from a random picker. Current score:  
> Hibari: 10  
> Yamamoto: 4  
> Mukuro: 3  
> Tsuna: 3  
> Xanxus: 2  
> Fon: 1  
> Reborn: 1  
> None: 1


	7. ...in the face of death?

Lupo clicked his tongue, dodging another strike from the demon prefect. He’d gotten better, but Lupo had too. He stopped the third strike of the tonfa, steel screaming and sparks flying, before Lupo jumped away lightly.

The two danced in the night, silver glinting and bruises booming from lucky hits. A wall was smashed into smithereens, a nearby dog howled into the night. Lupo grit his teeth and tore away from his opponent. Damn, this wasn’t what he was here for!

The Bovino assassin... damn, where the hell was the fucking bastard?! And what the hell had Lupo done to offend Hibari?!

_Crack!_

A tonfa connected with his arm and Lupo felt something snap. He snarled and kicked back, his foot connecting with something- preferably Hibari’s gut.

“I want answers, omnivore,” said boy drawled. “And you have them.”

“Then just ask, why don’t you?” Lupo hissed, sword arm wavering as pain landed through his arm.

“The ring. What does it mean.”

“ _That’s not how you ask questions_! And _what ring_?!”

* * *

He sighed, pulling his bloody rapier out of the assassin’s chest. Though the Bovino were good at inventing, horrible at parenting, and mediocre in strength, they were extremely persisted in their efforts to kill him.

This person... Lupo toed them over, so he could see the person’s face. Definitely not so one from the Bovino, he confirmed. If what he saw was correct, she was a hitman from somewhere in Northern Italy.

He bent down to close her eyes gently, before standing up and moving away hurriedly, before Hibari could catch up again.

That was the fifth one in that month. Lupo wished they’d just fucking give up already. A thought entered his mind. If he joined the Varia or any other Family, they’d probably give up quickly...

He shook the thought away. No. When all this fuckery was over, he was going to go and live far, far away from this chaos in a nice, little cottage by the woods. Retirement sounded nice...

* * *

Lambo beamed up at Lupo, holding the ring up cheerfully.

“Isn’t it pretty?” he asked.

Lupo smiled, though he felt a little wary. Hibari too, had a ring similar to this. Just what... did it mean? Rings were important in the mafia, Lupo knew, but these ones... definitely had something to do the Vongola.

“Yes, it’s very pretty,” he said. “Can I see it closer?”

“Lambo-san will allow you to hold it!”

“Thank you, Lambo.”

Lupo took the ring and held it up to the light, watching it glint. The Vongola... a ring... most likely, nothing good would be coming out of this.

* * *

Lupo listened quietly as Iemitsu Sawada spoke grimly to the children.

Fake rings... Varia... something about a master... lightning Guardian... inexperienced... Lupo stiffened. Lambo. This damn bastard... had chosen Lambo as Tsunayoshi Sawada’s lightning Guardian.

Which meant, the rings symbolised this choice, and the Varia were here, which meant.

“Fuck!” he cursed, leaping past a startled Iemitsu and running past a stunned Tsuna.

“Eh?! Lupo-san, where are you going?!”

He didn’t answer, and instead raced down the streets, pulling out his phone along the way. God, he had never been so glad before that he’d placed a tracker in the labyrinth that was Lambo’s hair.

He tapped on the app and twisted sharply as a blinking red dot appeared. Dammit all to hell, Lupo had known being affiliated with the Vongola was no good! If, after this, he didn’t beat Iemitsu into the ground, his surname wasn’t Argent!

* * *

“-no one suspicious either.”

Fucking bastard.

Lupo’s originally grey eyes glinted silver in the light under the moon. Silently, he wrapped a length of wire around the man’s neck, who startled and began to try and yell. Immediately, Lupo knocked the guy off the pole, before tying the piece of wire at the top. Strangled cries and muffled gurgles.

Good. Let him choke.

Then, he vanished off into the night, eyes gleaming as he narrowed in on the leader. The lightning Guardian of the Varia. One of the elites of the elites, Leviathan. Lupo sneered as he landed lightly on the ledge of the roof.

They didn’t seem to notice. Of course not, Lupo thought. In his past life, he’d been hailed as the ghost of the battle field. Unless he wanted to be seen, he couldn’t and _wouldn’t_ be seen. Quietly, he placed the edge of his blade at the man’s neck as he made to move off of the building.

“Make another move,” he said coldly, “and your head will come flying off.”

* * *

Below, the kids had been saved by the others, and Lupo cursed himself momentarily for thinking there’d only be one man as backup.

Then Leviathan spoke.

“You- who are you?”

“Lupo Argent, and you’re Leviathan of the Varia. You just tried to kill my charge,” Lupo said.

“Your... charge?” Leviathan asked.

“Lambo Bovino. The toddler with the Afro. He belongs to me.”

“...shit.”

“‘Shit’ indeed. Now, die peacefully.”

He moved his wrist, ready to send blood spurting from the man’s neck like a broken fountain, only-

Lupo threw himself away as a large, masked man slammed into the place where he’d just been and he was falling... falling... thud!

He landed on the ground, kneeling, and bracing himself with his hands, next to Tsunayoshi. Said boy screeched in shock and flailed.

“Lupo-san?!”

Three seconds later, most of the core members of the Varia landed in front of them. No... Lupo thought as someone else stepped into the spotlight. All of them. All of them were here. Though... he glanced at the large, masked figure. This was someone Lupo had never seen before.

However, he still straightened, laughing coldly. The sound sent a shudder down Tsuna’s spine. He didn’t think Lupo-san could become like _this..._ become the animal he was named after, that is.

“This isn’t a very good way to convince me to join the Varia, Squalo,” Lupo snarled.

“Ah?! Fucking hell, _your_ brat has the damn Lightning ring?! VOOOIIIIII! SO FUCKING ANNOYING, TRASH!”

Xanxus... Lupo eyed the man warily. The man had disappeared from the face of the earth for some time... why had he reappeared _now_ of all times? Then he glanced at the nervous looking Tsunayoshi.

...ah, so that’s how it was.

* * *

The letter was read aloud, and though Lupo ignored most of it, one particular bit caught his ear.

“- **those who wield the same type of ring, will fight in a one-on-one battle.** ”

This guy... was he joking?

“You must all be insane,” Lupo said disbelievingly. “Do you really think I’d let Lambo do something like that? Against a fuckass like _him_?” He gestured to Leviathan, who looked offended. “No way. No fucking way.”

“You don’t have a say in this matter, outsider,” Iemitsu said sharply.

Lupo laughed again, and in a blink of an eye, he was above the man, foot extended and smashing into his face. There was the satisfactory crack of a broken nose, and Lupo ground down for good measure, before leaping away.

Speed. That was all he had, compared to the monsters of this world. Speed, though, didn’t do much if your opponent could take hits and get up smiling. It didn’t do much if your opponent could _almost_ match up to you in speed, and had the strength of a rhino. Against someone like Iemitsu Sawada, however, even if he just had speed, it was plenty enough to do damage.

( _First in speed_ , Futa had whispered in awe sometime back, after Lupo had allowed the boy to rank him without hiding in the bushes. _Amazing_ ). 

“Lambo and I are leaving. You can give the ring to someone else, or give it to the moustache guy. I don’t give a fuck,” he announced. “Lambo-”

“I want to fight.”

“...what?”

Lambo looked up, eyes glinting in determination. “Lupo-nii, I want to fight.”

* * *

Lupo sighed, looking up at the stars. What... had been the point in being reborn?

(“ _Lambo_ ,” _he said, “what do you mean?”_

“ _I want to help. I want to fight, I don’t want to be coddled anymore.”_

“ _Lambo, you’re five.”)_

Why the hell had Lupo agreed? He’d been insane... was it too late to retract his permission?

(“ _Fine. Fine! But know this: should Lambo die in these battles of yours- should he gain a permanent injury that leaves him hindered and unable to go on with an ordinary life -I’ll kill each and every single one of you._

“ _I don’t give a crap how long it’ll take, or how hard it’ll be. I’ll kill you all. Is that understood?”_

 _”...yes,” Iemitsu said reluctantly._ )

Lupo jabbed his rapier forward, fury bubbling in his veins and frustration singing in his bones.

( _Xanxus gave him a contemplating look, but nodded too, smirking_.

“ _Let the games begin_.”)

Howling, he smashed through the twenty-fourth training dummy in that hour. He painted, sweat trickling down the side of his face.

Fuck... these _bastards_.

At least he’d had the satisfaction of breaking Iemitsu’s nose, as well as giving him a few nasty bruises.


	8. Chapter 8

The question was a big question: how was Lambo going to fight? Lupo knew that the other... _Guardians_ had each gotten a coach. Reborn had even called in a favour from another Acrobaleno to teach Sasagawa. Everybody except Lambo had an advantage of age, experience and skill, too. Perhaps, could Lupo train the boy? But, Lambo had never taken well to Lupo’s lessons, and he taught with experience, rather than words. A situation like this was really the worst-

“Woah! Lupo-san, you should probably watch where you’re going!”

A hand wrapped around his upper arm and he was jolted to a stop, face only an inch away from a pole. Lupo blinked, uncomprehending of the thing that’d almost smashed his face in, before he flinched away, jerking his arm out of the loose grasp and instead coming face to face with Yamamoto.

“Thank you,” he said stiffly, after a moment. Then he frowned. “You... a sword?”

Yamamoto blinked back, looking startled, before looking down at his hands, where he held a worn-looking bamboo _shinai_.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m training with my old man. He’s a real good swordsman, you know!” Yamamoto said cheerfully. “I was just taking a break, wanna come in?”

Lupo looked to where the boy gestured towards. He hadn’t noticed, too caught up in his thoughts, but Lupo now saw he’d just passed by a sushi shop.

Takesushi, the hand-written sign read in beautiful calligraphy. The shop’s design itself was a tasteful traditional Japanese plan. Lupo hesitated for a moment as the shop immediately endeared itself to him, but then shook his head. He’d come back, maybe, once this whole fiasco had settled down. If he hadn’t taken Lambo and scampered away, that is.

“I’ll have to decline,” he said, just a bit regretfully. “Have a good day, Yamamoto.”

“Ah, come on!” An arm wrapped itself around his shoulders and Lupo stared at it in confusion. “You look like you need the break, why not have some a-grade sushi while at it? I promise my Dad’s sushi will do wonders for you! It’s the best in town, no contest!”

And before Lupo could put out another word of protest, Lupo found himself being steered gently- but firmly -into the small restaurant.

“So, you ever had sushi before?” Yamamoto asked.

“I... can’t say I have.”

Yamamoto’s eyes widened and he stared down at Lupo in horror and _shit_ \- weren’t their faces just a _bit too close?!_

“You’ve never had sushi before? That’s horrible! Well, luckily for you, for your first time eating sushi, you get the best around! Hey, Dad!”

A man- face lined with the lines that came with age, but smile still steady -peered out of the kitchen.

“Takeshi! Ready to start again?” he asked.

“Not yet! We have a bit of a problem, see.”

The man’s eyes sharpened, eyes narrowing as he zeroed in Lupo, who shifted uncomfortably under the glare. This man... was dangerous. _Could_ be dangerous. Yamamoto laughed, patting Lupo’s shoulder.

“Lupo here-” when had they gotten close enough to drop the honourifics? “-has never had sushi before! In his _entire_ _life_!”

Yamamoto Sr. relaxed almost immediately, but then gasped in horror along with his son.

“Well! No friend of my son will never have tasted sushi before! Not on my watch! Sit, sit! I’ll whip something up with these old hands of mine!” And with that, the man hurried into the kitchen.

“I really couldn’t-” Lupo said hurriedly, looking for a chance out, because he had to help find a way for Lambo to-

“Hey, chill. It’s good to relax once in a while. And, who knows, maybe you’ll find the answer after a good rest. Overtraining is never good in your muscles, you know,” Yamamoto Jr. (and, damn, it was getting hard to keep track of all these surnames) said, pushing him onto a chair.

“Yamamoto, whilst I appreciate the gesture-”

“Just call me Takeshi. It’ll get confusing with my Dad around as well. Before you leave, just try some of the sushi. If you don’t like it, you can leave as soon as you want.”

“I don’t have the money-”

“It’s on the house,” Yamamoto Sr. said. “Enjoy.”

A plate of delicate looking morsels was set down in front on him, as well as a set of chopsticks. Hesitantly, Lupo looked towards Yama... Takeshi, who grinned, waving in a ‘go on’ sort of gesture.

And well, it couldn’t hurt to have one bit, right...?

Carefully, he picked up the chopsticks and manoeuvred them slowly (they were a lot harder than they looked, but Lupo had gotten hang of them soon after his first week in Japan). He picked up one of the ones with pink salmon and- oh _fucking hell_.

Lupo stared, wide-eyed, at the plate and had to physically restrain himself from attacking the meal like some rabid animal. He savoured the flavour in his mouth, before swallowing, and picking up the next one slowly.

The stuff practically _melted_ in Lupo’s mouth. Flavour burst across his tongue and _fuck_ , maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to indulge himself once in a while.

Takeshi, who’d been watching the whole process, snickered.

“Good?” he asked.

Lupo chewed slowly, realising he’d finished off the plate, and set the wooden chopsticks down across the plate in reverence.

“ _È fantastico-_ touched by god and breathed life upon by the heavens. With the gaze of the sea and an omnipotent bird, it was wonderful,” Lupo admitted.

Takeshi laughed, “No one’s ever said _that_ before! Dad, did you hear, your food is god’s work!”

“Glad to hear so!” was the cheerful reply from the kitchens, and Takeshi turned back to Lupo.

“So, your head cleared up yet?” he asked.

“...yes, thank you. It seems that I truly needed a distraction.”

“No problem! Say, can I ask you a few questions?”

Lupo eyed the boy, suddenly wary. “...so long as I can answer them, I suppose you can, yes.”

“Nice!” Takeshi’s face suddenly grew somber. “That guy. The silver-haired swordsman. Who is he?”

Ah, of course. Takeshi and Gokudera had been beaten badly by Squalo, hadn’t they? It was human nature to want to even out the score. And, if that was all the questions were going to lead to, in return for the wonderful food, Lupo would willingly answer a few questions.

“He’s called Superbia Squalo. By ranking, he’s the best swordsman in the mafia world.”

“Right. The mafia game. He’s in on it too, then?”

Lupo startled, did this boy truly still think everything was just a _game_? Takeshi caught Lupo’s eye, and beamed.

“It’s good to see so many people joining in, it’s really, fun, right?” he asked.

“...indeed.”

“Cool, next question. Can you match up to him?”

“I can. Our matches, though, more often than not, end up in his win. The ratio of wins is about... 3:1, in his favour,” Lupo said reluctantly. “That guy is a monster in his own right. Speed, strength, power, and skill. He’s an absolute demon if you hand him anything that even resembles a blade. Myself, meanwhile, have nothing but speed and technique. Unlike him, and many others, I’m afraid I can’t break walls with my body alone or scale cliffs with my bare hands.”

“But you _can_ match up to him, give him a run for his money,” Takeshi pointed out.

“I can.”

“Then, spare with me. Please. If you’re the closest in strength to him, you’re the closest I can get to fighting him in training. My Dad has taught me the skills, but having the skills doesn’t mean I can use them in the game. That needs practice. _Real_ practice.”

Lupo stared at the unusually serious boy. This guy... he wasn’t playing around anymore, was he?

* * *

“This is our dojo. You don’t have to hold back,” Takeshi said, leading him in.

“Just don’t break everything,” Yamamoto said drily. “Got that, boys?”

“Okay, Dad!”

“Of course not, sir.”

Yamamoto Tsuyoshi stared with hard eyes at Lupo. Then he nodded, and strode back out of the dojo. Lupo let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, and took off his coat and lay it neatly on the floor.

“You won’t be wearing that during your fight with Squalo, will you?” Lupo asked as Takeshi began pulling on his gear. A shake of the head. “Then leave it. During your fight with me, it’ll only hinder you. Although Squalo can’t beat me in speed, he can keep up. The moment you can match up to me, is the moment you can match up to him.”

Takeshi nodded. “And being out an actual sword. The _shinai_ won’t last against my rapier.”

“Okay!”

* * *

“I hear you’ve been sparring against Yamamoto,” Reborn said. “How’s he going?”

Lupo eyed the baby-not-baby with a wary eye.

“He’s doing as well as he can. He’s even got in a few hits with that Shigure Soen Ryu style of his. The only problem is...”

_(“-Squalo has already defeated the Shigure Soen Ryu. It’s best if you give it up and find another technique,” Lupo said mercilessly._

“ _That guy... has already defeated...? But-!”_

“ _It’s only what I know. I’ve also seen him use it, once or twice during some of our matches. Why do you think I can use it against you?”_

“ _Then... is there a technique he hasn’t defeated?” Takeshi asked, gritting his teeth._

“ _...there’s one. Mine. But I haven’t used it against him. Not once, so he probably doesn’t know it even exists. And, no, I won’t be using it here.”_

“ _Lupo, please, is there really no technique-?”_

“ _I don’t know. I’m sorry, I really am, but_ I don’t know _.”)_

Reborn sipped at his coffee, saying nothing even as Lupo trailed off into his thoughts.

“And what of Lambo?” the Acrobaleno asked. “What do you plan to do?”

“When the time comes, and it seems like it’s too much, I’ll jump in. Vongola or not, they don’t scare me. I’m not allied to any of you, after all.”

“Hm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The vote has ended! I was actually going to end it on the 10th of January, but I got impatient, sooo....  
> WINNER: YAMAMOTO TAKESHI! (with 21 votes)  
> Hibari was a (sort of) close second, with 16 votes. Then was Xanxus with 11 votes. The rest fell behind by a mile.


	9. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after the canon timeline. Just wanted to put this here, because I wanted some angst and fluff, specifically in that order.

In his past life, gods had roamed the world. They’d each chosen a Household to bless, before laying down for eternal sleep. One such blessed bloodline had been the Noble Argent Family. They’d been powerful. Dangerous as they were breathed upon by Death. Much more so than the Royal family.

They'd been loyal, though, often likened to as the dogs of the King. This didn’t stop the man from growing wary as they gained power.

‘ _Death is Inevitable_ ’ had been his family’s motto. And indeed, death had been inevitable.

The King had ordered on the eve of the full moon, for the entirety of the Argent Household to be slaughtered.

Red had painted the walls and Death awoke, leaving only Lupo alive in its wake. It had been beautiful, Lupo remembered. Deadly and graceful as it cleaved the soldier’s souls in half. It’d turned to him, and he’d lowered his gaze in reverence. When he looked back up, it was gone, having vanished almost as soon as he’d appeared.

A few minutes later, the bastard prince had arrived at the site.

Despite what many had thought, the bastard prince—the offspring of a flirty maid and the King—had not wanted the throne.

The prince had smiled, gaze sharp and teeth glinting in the moonlight. He’d offered a hand.

“Well? Don’t you want revenge? If you help me gift the throne to my brother, I’ll make sure that you’ll be the one to run your rapier through the King’s throat.”

Lupo had taken the hand with no hesitation.

The next few years were filled full with schemes and blood and death. Lupo was a prodigy with the rapier, the best in the land. Everywhere he went, red spilled onto the dry ground and green grass.

 _Cold blooded,_ some whispered to each other.

 _The lost ghost of the gentle, cheerful child he once was,_ others said with a shake of their heads in sorrow and regret.

 _I wonder what happened?_ more asked.

 _The Bloody General,_ they all called him after he cut down half of an army by himself. _Dangerous._

_He dances the waltz with Death every time he steps onto the battlefield._

Lupo didn't deny any of these.

The war lasted for years, and when it ended, Lupo wasn’t the naive, smiling boy he’d been before. True to the bastard prince’s words, he was the one to personally put a blade through the man’s throat. Afterwards... well.

He drifted. His purpose was fulfilled. His family could finally sleep in peace. They’d gotten no graves, their bodies tossed into the oceans. His home was gone, burned down by the King after the massacre. He accepted the offer given to him by the bastard prince to become the general of the new army. He had nothing better to do with himself, after all.

Lupo had cut entire armies down for the new King. He’d conquered countries. The rumours had mounted, one after the other until it towered over his form like a haunted mountain. The noose around his neck, the one that’s been there ever since he’d accepted the bastard prince’s hand, slowly tightened.

It was five years after the civil war, that the new King finally snapped. He sent Lupo off on an... _expedition_ as a bodyguard to a group the man wanted to get rid of, too. This included the bastard prince.

Bandits had attacked. Except they hadn’t been bandits, had they? They’d been too uniform, too skilled.

Ah, Lupo had realised, these must be the fabled shadow warriors that only the King can contact. He’d like to think he impressed the warriors, cutting down almost all of their members. Most of the group had perished, but Lupo hadn’t cared about them. Instead, he’d turned to the bastard prince—his liege.

He’d grinned like the wolf he was named after.

“ _Run_.”

The prince, for once, had listened and vanished off into the depths of the forest. There, that had been Lupo’s debt to the man payed. He turned back to the curious warriors and raised his rapier.

A few escaped, most likely thinking he wasn’t worth the effort. With his wounds, he’d die of blood loss anyway. He’d watched as the went, before slumping down against a tree, holding his broken ribs delicately. After wiping his silver rapier carefully, he’d sheathed the blade and set it across his lap.

The sky had been beautiful that night, Lupo remembered. Navy in colour, with billions of stars littering it. Not just silver, though, there’d been slashes of purple and blue too. It’d been a full moon, just like the night his family had been slaughtered.

Then he’d closed his eyes and breathed his last.

* * *

Waking up had been unexpected. The birth even more so. Unlike the Argent family, this group—though they were called a _Family—_ had been unloving. They’d been cold. Lupo was glad he and Lambo had left when they did, now.

He watched as the children chased each other around the park and something in him softened. His heart, cold and broken as it had been, felt a little better. The constant pain that’d accompanied him even into this second life eased just that little bit.

“Lupo-nii! Come play!” Lambo called, beaming.

“I don’t think you’ll find playing with me much fun,” Lupo said in amusement.

A hand settled on his shoulder and Lupo blinked, peering up at Takeshi.

“Ah, come on, Lupo! We’re here to have fun, aren’t we? Lose that doom and gloom of yours while we’re on a picnic, yeah?”

“Ooh! Haru would like to play!”

“Let’s all play to the _EXTREME_!” Sasagawa proclaimed loudly, shooting up and almost tripping over the sleeping World’s Greatest Hitman.

“Haha, sounds fun! I’m in! C’mon, Lupo, it’ll be fun! Tsuna, Gokudera, why don’t you guys play too?” Takeshi’s smile was _too bright_.

“Eh?! I don’t think I should-”

“A mafia boss makes time for his family, Dame-Tsuna.”

_Bang!_

“HIIIIIEEEEE! Okay, okay! I got it! Let’s play, everyone!”

Ah, perhaps this was family...? Lupo smiled, letting Takeshi pull him up. He looked at his rapier on the ground, and hesitated. His hand was squeezed gently, and he looked towards the smiling Rain.

“Hey, you good?” he asked.

Lupo wavered, just for that once second. Then he shook his head and pulled the other boy away.

“It’s nothing. Let’s go.”

* * *

Behind them, the intricate hand guard of the rapier glinted in the light.


End file.
